The Brief

For customers using a telehealth website to get cheaper versions of popular obesity drugs, the low prices turned out to be too good to be true.

Customers of Zappy Health tell NPR they were drawn to the online provider by its low prices, its lack of subscription fees and its handy smartphone app with a chat feature for patients to talk to one another during their weight-loss journeys.

The Zappy chat was ultimately how many customers first learned that Ousia Pharmacy — one of several pharmacies that supplied Zappy with compounded obesity drugs — didn't have a required license, one that ensured the drugs were produced in accordance with safety and potency standards.

Compounded drugs that Zappy and other telehealth sites sell aren't generics. Instead, they're essentially copies of the name-brand drugs, made by specialized pharmacies. The Food and Drug Administration allows this kind of compounding during drug shortages.

Compounding pharmacies are regulated at the state level. Ousia, in Spring Hill, Fla., didn't have what's called a sterile compounding license. The obesity drugs made by compounding pharmacies are given by injection, so attention to sterile production is critical to avoid contamination that could cause infections.

Zappy didn't find out about Ousia's licensing problem until December and it ceased its roughly three-month relationship with the pharmacy on Dec. 13, Zappy's founder, Dr. Michel Choueiri, told NPR in an email after a broadcast version of this story aired. He called Zappy "the biggest victims of this situation" and said that it has left the company in "severe financial and reputational ruin."

Some Zappy customers NPR spoke with found out about the problem on Reddit.

Laura Franzese, in Portland, Ore., learned about the licensing problem after spending $1,000 on a bulk order of tirzepatide from Zappy that arrived with Ousia labels. (Tirzepatide is the active ingredient in Eli Lilly's obesity drug Zepbound.) She'd been taking the drugs already, from a local provider, and called them "life-changing," but made the switch to Zappy hoping to save money.

"I bought three months' worth of medicine from this company," she says. Now she's afraid to use the drugs. "It was a big investment."

People active on Reddit told NPR that Zappy deleted the original user post in its app chat forum about Ousia's lack of the proper license. Choueiri says Zappy publicly apologized in the same forum and removed the post only while it was verifying the claim.

Ousia couldn't be reached for comment.

When Laura Franzese started with compounded tirzepatide at a local medical spa, she lost 20 pounds in 16 weeks. "It's giving me something that my body clearly needed," she says. But it was expensive. She discovered she could get a lower price from Zappy Health.

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Laura Franzese

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For many people who've turned to online telehealth companies to find compounded obesity drugs, they say they would prefer to take the brand-name drugs, but it isn't an option for them. They say Novo Nordisk's Wegovy and Eli Lilly's Zepbound aren't covered by their insurance. And paying the full sticker price — more than $1,000 a month — is too expensive.

Compounding pharmacies fill a gap for patients like this. They've been a part of the health care landscape for decades, preparing custom medicines for people who need them, but booming demand for weight-loss drugs — as well as resulting brand-name shortages — has brought them into new prominence.

Even some people who have health insurance coverage for obesity drugs say they turn to telehealth and compounding because they couldn't reliably find the brand-name drugs in local pharmacies.

But the situation with Ousia shows the pitfalls of navigating the world of online compounded obesity drugs, which includes legitimate businesses as well as some unlicensed or unregistered ones. It can be difficult for consumers to tell the difference or trust the quality of the obesity drugs they're buying.

Looking for a deal, finding confusion

For Zappy customers, the problems came as a surprise.

Eric Bishop, an IT professional in Salt Lake City, was looking for a way to buy more tirzepatide at once, fearing that the official end to the Zepbound shortage would mean the end of the compounded version. He had been filling his prescription at a local brick-and-mortar compounding pharmacy but turned to Zappy to buy a stockpile.

He didn't know which pharmacy would be fulfilling the order through Zappy until after he paid. "They didn't give me a choice," he says.

Bishop had just gotten his nine-month supply of tirzepatide, worth $2,700, from Zappy when users on the Zappy app blew the whistle on Ousia.

"That's when I started seeing things in the chat," he says of the app's patient forum feature. "So I bounced over to Reddit."

According to a complaint filed by the Florida Department of Health on Dec. 5, Ousia applied for a sterile compounding license in March 2024, but it was never granted. When state regulators inspected the facility later that year in August, they discovered that it was compounding medicines anyway. In addition, inspectors noted that Ousia was improperly storing drugs that needed to be refrigerated and not keeping proper records for drugs it dispensed.

The Florida Department of Health did not respond to requests for comment on this story. In an email to NPR, Zappy's founder, Choueiri, said the department failed to disclose Ousia's problem "in a timely manner."

Bishop couldn't believe what he was reading.

"I'm all of a sudden, you know, about ready to start taking my medication and I'm like, I now no longer have any confidence in what I have," Bishop says. "And I might either want my money back or I want a replacement for what I have."

Eric Bishop helps run a Facebook group for people who got Ousia vials from Zappy Health and are trying to get their money back. Since Ousia gave up its regular pharmacy license on Jan. 31, he says, some people have been more successful.

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Another Zappy patient, Nicole Drong, in Minneapolis, says she was surprised when vials marked "Ousia" arrived at her home. "I did not know the name of the pharmacy until I got a package. And I was like, 'Well, that's weird. I thought it was going to say 'Zappy' on it.'"

Then in December, she noticed the Zappy app was sending her a lot more notifications than usual from the patient forum. Word was out that Ousia didn't have a sterile compounding license.

"I kind of feel stupid, I guess," Drong says. She says she was " just blindly putting trust in this pharmacy. … How often do you ever have to double-check your medication? Like, if I go get my antidepressants from Walgreens, do I have to double-check to make sure there's not anything extra in my bottle of pills?"

Choueiri, Zappy's founder, says patients have the opportunity to cancel once they learn which pharmacy is fulfilling their order, and it has responded to patient feedback to be more transparent with customers up front.

Confusion and no refunds

The bureaucratic details of licensing can be opaque to consumers. But these licenses matter, says Scott Brunner, who leads the trade group of compounding pharmacists, the Alliance for Pharmacy Compounding. Ousia pharmacy wasn't a member, he says.

He called not having a sterile compounding license where one is required "egregious."

"I would not take a drug that has been dispensed to that patient from a pharmacy that has been found to be in violation of its state license law," he says.

Choueiri did a TikTok live on Jan. 15, where he said Zappy was "made aware of the complaint" and wanted to let the process play out. He added that his family members were taking the Ousia medications too and that he was also fielding questions from them.

"It's not counterfeit?" he said, reading questions as they came in. "Yeah, no. No, it's not counterfeit. Um no, no. The short answer is no, but I'm not going to go down the legal litigation here."

At first, Zappy told people they could fill out a Google form to get a refund or replacement vials, but customers tell NPR that nothing has come of it yet. For a time, Zappy also told customers to ask Ousia for a refund instead.

On Jan. 31, 2025, Ousia voluntarily relinquished its regular pharmacy license, Florida records show. Now, the pharmacy's phone number goes to voicemail and its website is down.

Asked what Zappy is now advising its patients to do with their Ousia vials, Choueiri wrote to NPR: "As always, Zappy is a platform that connects patients to affordable care but does not replace the role of medical providers or pharmacists. Decisions about medication use should always be made in consultation with a licensed healthcare professional, and defer these conversations to the providers of care."

Zappy Health ads on Facebook and Instagram promote its weight-loss program, which involves connecting patients to online providers and sending them low-cost obesity drugs made by compounding pharmacies.

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Zappy/Images screenshot and compiled by NPR

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Choueiri is a medical doctor. On its website, Zappy touts that its weight-loss plans "are personalized by doctors."

According to Zappy's terms of service, the doctor-patient relationship isn't between Zappy and its users. It's between the providers who do virtual appointments and prescribing on Zappy and the Zappy customers. And the company "disclaims any liability for the medical or pharmaceutical services provided through its platform."

Spotting red flags

While the Ousia situation is unfortunate for the patients involved, it's an example of the regulatory system working the way it's supposed to, says Brunner.

The National Association of Boards of Pharmacy says it's hard to know how many online retailers are offering compounded obesity drugs that are made without the proper license or registration. State pharmacy boards oversee most compounding pharmacies around the U.S., but if a pharmacy isn't registered or licensed in a state where it's shipping products, it can be hard to track.

Betty Jones, compliance senior manager of the accreditation and inspection programs at NABP, says consumers can protect themselves by looking out for red flags. For instance, you should always know which pharmacy is filling your prescription, and they're required to provide counseling.

"If they're not providing you that offer of patient counseling or you're calling into that pharmacy and they don't allow you to, you know, be progressed to a pharmacist where you can ask questions, that would be something that I would call a red flag."

She says prices that are too low and pharmacies that don't ask for a prescription should also trigger alarm bells.

Potential customers should also be able to verify that a pharmacy is licensed, since these are public records available online in most states. And to dispense to you, that means the pharmacy needs to be licensed in your state, too — not just the one where it's located.

Bishop, the Zappy customer in Salt Lake City, says he helped organize a Facebook group for people to help them figure out how to get their money back. Customers say they haven't been able to get refunds.

Choueiri says Zappy's low prices mean it doesn't have much money left over after paying pharmacies and providers, and "Zappy does not control the funds necessary to issue refunds."

The Facebook group has grown to more than 600 people. Its members have even helped report new information to the Florida Department of Health, Bishop says. "We're just a community just kind of helping each other out."

Many of the group members' banks initially declined to reverse their credit card transactions with Zappy. That has started to change since Ousia relinquished its license, Bishop says. "Actually, some banks are even opening disputes that they closed previously."

Zappy is still advertising to customers, but Bishop says he isn't buying from the company again. He's back on compounded tirzepatide from his local pharmacy.
Copyright 2025 NPR

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has announced several significant rule changes for the 99th Oscars, including AI protections for actors and writers as well as expanded eligibility for international films.

In a statement to NPR, the Academy on Saturday said the changes are in response to listening to the global filmmaking community and addressing barriers to entry in its eligibility process.

The Academy added that its rules and eligibility standards have always evolved alongside technologies such as sound, color, and CGI, and that AI is no different. Awards rules and guidelines are reviewed and refined each year.

A blow for Tilly Norwood 

Among the most noteworthy changes, the Academy now explicitly states that only roles, "demonstrably performed by humans with their consent" are eligible for Acting awards. In other words, AI creations like the much-hyped Tilly Norwood cannot hope to win a Best Actress Oscar anytime soon.

Particle6, the production company behind Norwood, did not immediately respond to NPR's request for comment on Saturday about its creations' ban from consideration. In March, Norwood commented, "Can't wait to go to the Oscars!" in an Instagram post announcing its newly released music video.

The Academy also requires screenplays to be "human-authored" and said it reserved the right to investigate the use of generative AI in any submission.

Meanwhile, qualifying flesh-and-blood human actors can now be nominated for multiple performances in the same category if those performances get enough votes to land in the top five. So, someone like Anne Hathaway, who has five major movies scheduled for release in 2026, could now theoretically sweep the nominations – though that outcome seems extremely unlikely.

"If an actor has an extremely prolific year, might we even see someone swallow up three of the five nominations?," wrote Deadline's awards columnist and chief film critic Pete Hammond about the changes. "Probably won't happen, but it's now possible."

Under previous rules, an actor could only receive one nomination per category. If they had two high-ranking performances in Best Actor, for example, only the one with the most votes would move forward.

International films prioritizes filmmakers over countries

While international films can still be the official selection of their countries, now they can qualify by winning the top prize at a major international festival such as the Palme d'Or at Cannes, the Golden Lion at Venice, or the World Cinema Grand Jury Prize at Sundance.

Historically, countries "owned" the nomination, and only one film per country was allowed. The new rules allow multiple films from the same country to compete if they are critically acclaimed, and it shifts the honor from a geopolitical entity to the filmmakers themselves.

Largely positive response

The changes have prompted a largely positive reaction from the film community on social media, such as on the popular The Shade Room entertainment and celebrity-focused Instagram feed, where commenters widely praised the "human-only" move to protect creative jobs.

The Academy's Awards Committee oversees the rules in tandem with branch executive committees, the International Feature Film Executive Committee and the Scientific and Technical Awards Executive Committee.

The rules are scheduled to go into effect next year, covering films released in 2026.

Copyright 2026 NPR

Los Angeles changes fast, and oftentimes that means some of the architectural relics of our shared past get swept up and paved over in all the "progress." (RIP Garden of Allah.)

But there are still places where you can find ruins that tell a tale, like a long-forgotten speakeasy reputedly for old Hollywood near La Crescenta.

The ruins are still there 

On a recent afternoon, author and local historian Mike Lawler led me just beyond the boundary of Crescenta Valley Park. Joggers like me might have seen an old, towering stone arch shrouded by bushes there — and wondered what lies beyond.

Turns out there was once a place called the Verdugo Lodge back there and Lawler has spent years excavating its history.

A car speeds away from the lodge onto New York Avenue. The stone archway that still stands can be seen in the background.

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Kadletz Family Archives)

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“It was a very high-end speakeasy for a time,” Lawler, who also helps run the Historical Society of the Crescenta Valley, said. “An amazing thing. And all the ruins are still here, just like this arch.”

Lawler said we don’t know exactly when the lodge was built, but we do have some of the picture starting in the late 1920s. The place was set up kind of like a timeshare where people bought 10 x 10 foot ‘tent lots’ that gave them access to on-site amenities. There was a golf course, stables, trout stream, a swimming pool — and a lodge with gambling and alcohol.

“The Crescenta Valley in the teens and '20s was a hotbed of moonshine, prostitution, all that stuff," Lawler said. "It was a quiet little community. But in all these canyons up here, stuff was going on. Illegal stuff!”

We don’t have a full guest list, but Lawler said it’s likely at least a few Hollywood types had gone up to the lodge to circumvent Prohibition era laws.

In some ways, it was kind of like the original glamping. Lawler said patrons probably weren’t doing much sleeping, though.

“They might have been unconscious!” he said with a chuckle.

Lawler led me to a road that swooped around a meadow. We passed by a massive swimming pool nestled into the hillside.

Once known as the “Crystal Pool,” it’s now empty and fenced off, with pitch black locker rooms below.

The exterior of the locker rooms for the old Crystal Pool.

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Robert Garrova / LAist

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We continued our journey up the hill and eventually arrived at a cascading stone stairway.

And at the top, the big show: overgrown with orange monkey flowers and goliath agaves lies the foundation of the old Verdugo Lodge, with lofty stone fireplaces the only guardians keeping the surrounding oak trees at bay.

Lawler takes out a floorplan that one of the former owners drew up for him.

“This is what it was laid out like on the inside. So a dancehall, and band stand on that side... And then upstairs was the gambling,” Lawler said.

Lawler had in hand a copy of a Los Angeles Times article from 1933 he found. The headline reads: “Revelers Flee in Lodge Raid.”

“The police that raided it were here at 3 o'clock in the morning. And there were still 500 people here. And they said it was the classiest joint they had ever raided... Anyway, people were diving out of windows and everything,” Lawler explained.

In a ruin like this, covered with moss and overgrowth, the imagination can run wild, too.

The archway that still stands outside of what's now known as Mountain Oaks.

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Robert Garrova / LAist

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Lawler pointed out a questionable door jam below the old dancefloor that’s been cemented over.

“That is a door. So what is behind there? So there’s a room in there that got walled in for some reason,” he said.

What we do know is that, sometime after the raid, the tawdry Verdugo Lodge and the surrounding land were purchased and then renamed Mountain Oaks by the Kadletzes — an entrepreneurial family who had run everything from a Turkish bath to a mini golf course. Over the next few decades, the family would rent the place out to local groups for recreational retreats.

The future of Mountain Oaks 

After they sold it in the ‘60s, Lawler said Mountain Oaks faced a “nightmare” of development threats. Over the years, some of the subdivided "tent lots" had been combined and sold off, Lawler said. A dozen private homes now stand on these pieces of land, next to the ruins of the Verdugo Lodge.

A map showing the Mountain Oaks public property acquired by The Mountains Recreation and Conservation Authority (MRCA).

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Courtesy MRCA

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Last year, with help from the City of Glendale, a U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development grant among other funding sources, the Mountains Recreation and Conservation Authority (MRCA) put up $6.1 million to acquire 33-acres of the land — not including the private lots where the homes stand — so the public can continue to roam the meadow and ruins.

Paul Edelman, MRCA's director of natural resources and planning, said his group will continue to manage the land, doing things like brush clearance, trash pickup and sign maintenance. And he said there are no current plans to remove the ruins or make any major changes to the property.

“If somebody comes up with a grand idea where they can find some funding for us to do something to enhance it, we’re always open to it,” Edelman said.

The purchase was good news for local preservationist Joanna Linkchorst.

“I grew up directly up the hill. But I always saw the sign that said ‘private property’ and didn’t really think about it until several years ago when I finally asked Mike. And he said, ‘Oh yeah, we got a resort speakeasy down the street,’” Linkchorst said standing among the oaks and overgrowth.

Linkchorst, who founded the group Friends of Rockhaven to preserve another nearby historic site, said it’s been amazing to see all of the decaying structures that were still hiding out at Mountain Oaks.

“There’s almost like these little ghosts in your head as you imagine what it was like when there was a beautiful wood floor and there was a second floor that people came jumping out of,” Linkchorst said.

Now, let’s check in to the Overlook Hotel.

That’s the fictional place Stanley Kubrick brought to life in his 1980 film The Shining, loosely based on Stephen King’s novel of the same name.

A local architect who hails from South Pasadena meticulously crafted a 3D model of the iconic space so Shining fans everywhere never have to check out.

‘I just couldn’t stop’ 

At his day job, architect Anthony Chieh mainly works on residential and boutique commercial spaces. But over the course of five months, he spent his nights meticulously recreating a virtual replica of the Overlook Hotel from the film that first scared him when he was 12.

Of course he started with the deeply haunted Room 237. That’s where Jack Torrance, played by Jack Nicholson, has a terrifying encounter with a ghostly woman.

Chieh's 3D rendering of Room 237

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Anthony Chieh

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“But once I started, I just couldn’t stop,” Chieh told LAist.

“I ended up modeling the Colorado Lounge, and then after that I was thinking maybe I should make the lobby and then arriving to the Gold Room, and then Grady’s bathroom.”

“It’s like a rabbit hole,” he said.

Users who download Chieh’s free 3D model can fly through all of those spaces, immersed in atmospheric sounds and music from the film.

“It’s interesting to dive into these kind of fictional environments and try to make sense of it,” Chieh said. “And the hope is people will get a different perspective once they’re in there.”

Kubrick’s take on the Overlook was famously inspired by real hotels like the Timberline Lodge in Oregon and the Ahwahnee in Yosemite. But the interiors you see in the film were created on sound stages in England.

“Real architecture, physical buildings, are built for people to live. And for movies, these are more meant to express the emotional aspect of things. It’s a psychological construct,” Chieh said.

In a recently published video essay on YouTube, Chieh dives deep into those psychological constructs and how, as he puts it, “Kubrick designed the Overlook Hotel not as a backdrop, but as the film's true villain.”

How spaces scare 

Chieh said during the monthslong process he was reminded of the power of architecture and design in the real world too – whether it’s an uncomfortably repetitive carpet design or a claustrophobic hallway.

“A physical construct can affect your emotion,” Chieh said.

“You can use it in a way to make people feel comfortable and you can also use it in a way to create fear.”

Chieh's 3D rendering of the Torrance's apartment in 'The Shining'

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Anthony Chieh

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What’s next for this architect moonlighting as a 3D modeler?

Chieh says he’s thinking about giving the spaceship from “2001: A Space Odyssey" the virtual treatment next. Or maybe turning to a local non-fictional space, like the Stahl House.

That is, of course, if he can ever escape the Overlook.